


Intrigue

by AlphaKantSpell



Series: The Incomplete Guide to Drawf/Elf Relations [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Aeducan - Freeform, Antivan obviously, Dwarves, F/M, two people who shouldn't date but do and do well, who knows what the heck language Zevran speaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although the two views stemmed from a difference in personality, Ninette's refusal to accept cataclysm and Zevran's belief in it around every inevitable corner, their end result was the same. They lived now, strong and confident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrigue

Intrigue was what brought her to ask into his life. Since climbing to the surface world, Ninette Aeducan had seen her fair share of elves; pitiable creatures that shied away at a glance. Even the casteless of her people held more dignity and they were marked less than worthless before birth. What drew her to Zeran was his gall, the confidence he radiated was a sweet breath of fresh air from Alistair's lamb-like self-doubt. And the sureness the Antivan regarded himself with was much more charming than Morrigan's haughty air ever could be. No, this was a man who knew his skills and was competent enough not to bombard others with it. She hadn't felt such thirst for another warrior's company since her Proving months ago. It was like he summoned Orzammar with a flick of his blade - an alien Orzammar of soft flesh and hairless chins but home all the same. 

Zevrans's features on the other hand took a great deal of time to get used to. Dwarves were made of boxy shapes, square, hard, and sturdy enough to last a through beating. During their first battle, Ninette couldn't concentrate on her own enemy for fear the elf would shatter under duress like a tiny crystal. She needn't worry -- Zevran moved like liquid, weaving around their foes with fluidity dwarves couldn't dare attempt. He danced around his attackers and cackled like the bird his former guild was named for. 

"Ah ~ this really get's the blood pumping!" 

Such display made Ninette itch for a duel. 

The Warden found herself drawn to his willowy frame after that day. And really, who was she to ignore the beckoning call of his quirking eyebrows and eccentric voice. 

Facial hair (or rather his lack thereof) was another matter entirely. Ninette descended from a very hairy race, any warrior worth his salt baring a beard of interlocking braids and a chest of thick tangles. Zevran bore neither. She'd peeked at him when the boys slunk off for a bath, not a hair anywhere on his body but scalp and groin. Any dwarf woman's reaction to the sight would be revulsion, Zevran's baby smooth chin made her shudder in the worst way possible. Every time Ninette spoke to the Antivan or thought of his touch on her, the exile swayed with dirty shame; like seeking relations with a child. 

That was where she was now, in that awkward stage of fancying someone she wasn't supposed to. No much of a change from the affections of Gorim, her servant while in Orzammar - but at least that man bore a fine beard. Zevran was a pretty creature and not quite as towering as the other giants of their group but no dwarf by any standards. The whole thing was . . . awkward. 

"If you keep frowning like that my dear, your face will undoubtedly stick." Zevran smirked at her as the group marched. Ninette's helm lay unworn in her hands, a heavy but ignorable weight of yet another thing to carry on their journey. What she wouldn't give for a Bronto to help move camp sites. 

Zevran sloped around her, not without offering a pompous grin to Alistair as the other Warden guarded the rear of the group. By Zevran's wink the Antivan enjoyed the rear he guarded now. Ninette shook her head at their rivalry. Men acting like boys. 

"You wound me Zevran. Being made of stone makes dwarves more susceptible to turning into statuettes. Back in Orzammar we had clinics specifically for our people who's faces 'stuck like that'," she hummed back. Zevran barked with laughter as he shook his head. 

"If you keep telling jokes with suck a serious expression no one but I will know you are joking.” 

She made a show of pondering over her next words.

“I suppose you are right. I wouldn’t want Alistair to be confused. Poor lad has enough trouble finding his socks.” 

Zevran cackled again, Ninette had the impression it was one of his many tricks to lull those around him into false security. Her younger brother Bhelen used his soft eyed “Little Brother” persona to the same effect. Since his betrayal Ninette was more apt to poke holes in those masks, something she’d come to realize Zevran wore most often. His confidence was not a bluff; that she was certain of. Neither was his loyalty – or rather his need for protection under Grey Warden care. The Antivan was an enigma, his persona buried so deep she doubted even he knew the man behind the mask. An assassin, a Crow, perhaps he was nothing more. 

“A beautiful stone with a sense of humor? Now I have seen everything." At her grin he delighted. The world looked brighter for a moment. "There we are ~ life is good now, yes? Why sour a perfect day with storm clouds?"

He was right of course. If her time scrambling through the dark of the Deep Roads meant anything then it was not to lose heart. Same lessons were taught through warrior's training; don't give the enemy an inch. Shame it took a rogue to remind her of that. Ninette rolled her shoulder as best she could in plate armor and was rewarded with a satisfying pop. Zevran's lips quirked

"Just like that? No talk of the Blight or worrying about bandits or Crows?" She shrugged at his question and smiled. Zevran laughed like someone who didn’t understand a joke. "You are a strange woman. Sturdy as a rock but flexible like a cat's back bending for a scratch." 

"No only stubborn. I refuse to let the darkspawn win. We will end this Blight so why worry?" 

Zevran nodded, understanding the sentiment. "We have something similar with the Crows; live and enjoy life while things are good. Time is precious so why squander it with meaningless fret?"

Although the two views stemmed from a difference in personality, Ninette's refusal to accept cataclysm and Zevran's belief in it around every inevitable corner, their end result was the same. They lived now, strong and confident.

"It is a shame, really. I was anticipating holding you close and chasing away fears. I am very good for that, I assure you; bendy so you needn't worry of hurting my back with those ‘badger paws’ of yours. Ah, our loss." 

“Badger paws?” She had no idea what a badger was. So many things about the surface were still confusing to her. He laughed again and shrugged his shoulders. 

Shaking her head, she smiled as he smirked. They were begun from such different realities, her born noble and under the earth and he a whore's son native to a glamorous country, oceans away. But like their world views they were compatible in the end.   
If he just had some stubble at least, everything would be much less . . . weird. 

Zevran motioned to say more but froze as sure as if struck with a frost spell. Ninette followed his lead, making a hating gesture to the rest of the group. Shale grumbled, impatient for battle. Alistair whispered loud in his confusion and was hushed by Leliana. Ninette searched the circling brush but didn't notice anything amiss. 

"What's wrong?" 

"The birds, they've flown off but we are not alone," Zevran whispered back, his voice quick. He took a tentative step. Silence wrapped the group with tangible weight. Ninette dared not move but every instinct screamed for her to either take cover or fight. Just as she could stand no more and demand their enemies face battle Zevran reeled back shouting, "Down!" 

Ninette repeated the command to the group as she dropped. An unmistakable "zwip" of an arrow sailed by at perfect height for her head. It struck lose gravel, hard enough to scatter pebbled stones. Without her helm it would have been a kill shot if Zevran hadn't told her to move. Ninette focused on anger of an unannounced attack rather than fear of what could have been – and let loose a War Cry to make darkspawn shiver. Bandits stood no chance against the might of a Warden. 

"At arms!” she roared to the group and shoved her helm into place. Zevran was already leaping up the bank of earth to where an archer notched his second arrow. A quick slice and a strangled gasp let her know they were down one enemy. 

She would have cursed at the height barrier but another archer made sloppy work of a second attack, an arrow bouncing off her breastplate nowhere near a weak point. Either the bandits were terrible shots or unused to dwarf sized targets. In any case Leliana made quick work of the archer with a barrage of her own arrows. A warrior charged the group, Ninette meeting him head on. She swung her shield and bashed the bandit's chest plate in. He spat blood at the impact but had enough remaining sense to slash at her. The blade hissed against the metal of her shield as Ninette deflected and swung again. Lifted by one of Leliana's hymns she finished off the foe and hunted for another. 

Eight bandits were slain in total when Ninette gave the all clear. Wynne patched up what wounds the group suffered as the Warden searched corpses for items. Peace as it was returned to the grassy alcove, birds chirping again in proper order. 

"A good exercise, no?" Zevran purred content as a cat in the sun. He reclined against a mossy tree, the perfect picture of elegance and power. Conscious of Ninette's attention he stretched at his post, neck looking long and legs strong. Three men personally slain by his blades and the man held himself like he'd done nothing more than warm up in the sun’s generous rays. 

"Sod it all," the exiled princess growled and marched across to Zevran who had the sense to look wary. Perhaps he worried Ninette blamed him for the bandits – or at least feared wrath of an angry dwarf spattered in blood. Whatever he suspected didn't matter. 

Ninette tore off her helm, hooked her fingers around his shoulder-guard and yanked the Antivan down in a rough kiss that was all heat and teeth. Zevran took a breath to change the kiss into a more pleasant caress of lips. In the next he rearranged their positions so his back wasn't crooked and she needn’t stand on her toes to reach him. Ninette had never kissed anyone so tall. Their meeting of lips an uncomfortable affair like two puzzle pieces meant for opposite sides of the board jammed together by an impatient force. While no roses bloomed or traveling bard burst into song (neither would past it past Lelianan) the union made a delicious friction. A spark made of static and something else urged the pair on. 

Zevran made a sound of appreciation and swooped low to press more comfortably into the Warden without sprawling on the ground. He allowed her tongue into his mouth; in retaliation his hands palmed the steel of her skirt and fought to find soft flesh. Ninette clamored to get a better grip, a hand carelessly searching his scalp. Her gauntleted fingers traced an ear, causing Zevran to suck in a sharp stab of air. 

In an instant he had her pinned to the ground; both hands cupping what skin he could touch on her face as he kissed like the action would make money rain from the sky. His hips jerked and bucked as she tweaked the ear and he moaned – Ancestors he moaned hot into her lips. 

"I suspect this is your first time exploring the -haa- wonders of elf physic so this is – ahh – warning. If you keep touching my ears your companions will see more skin than I think you are willing to share." 

Ninette's hands flew from his ears in an instant, face glowing pink with shame. Zevran whimpered at the loss of contact and pressed wet kisses to what of her neck was exposed. Somewhere down the slop Alistair made a gagging noise and Wynne murmured, nonplused. Ninette tucked the ear information away for later and happily met Zevran's lips again. 

"You are a very strange woman indeed," he announced between less sloppy kisses. Still above her and grinning like a fool, Zevran rolled to the side in a lounging position. Ninette remained on the forest floor in an honest to stone daze. 

She'd slept with men Orzammar but not one of the same powerful abandon for pleasure. It was always slow caresses and worshiping touches. This, this kiss with Zevran was like a sensual version of the Proving. By the Ancestors, he trounced any other kiss and was beardless to boot. Ninette reached across their small distance to palm his jaw, trace a golden eyebrow and caress the otherwise hairless face. Zevran watched on, eyes curious but not unhappy. 

"Do you fancy strange?" she asked, voice carrying an airy quality she hadn't heard since her first childhood crush. Zevran grinned and bent for another kiss, rich but brief. 

"I fancy you; I suppose that's as good an answer as any." 

An adequate one but Ninette accepted it none the less. They took another moment to enjoy the new understanding in their relationship before she heeded Wynne's chiding calls. She returned to the group but not without a slap to Zevran's leather clad rump. 

"Oh-ho, this is how you play, my Warden?" Zevran mused with a playful scowl. Ninette grinned up at him with a 'who, me?' look. He laughed again and watched her walk off with a whistle of appreciation. 

Ancestors guide her; she sought relations with a beardless man.


End file.
